Misc short ensemble fics -
by Slaymesoftly
Summary: A selection of short stories involving other characters from BtVS and AtS. Spike probably is featured in most of them, but he is interacting with other characters. All Gen-type ficlets.


Misc. short fics that were written for requests from friends, so with assorted BtVS verse characters. Usually featuring Spike – but not always...

In more or less chronological order by season.

**(For Always_jbj)**

**Old Friends**

Giles/Ripper sprinted after Buffy as she chased Ethan to the back of the candy warehouse. Joyce followed closely behind him, determined not to lose sight of her new boyfriend. Popping her gum, she watched carefully as the man Buffy had been chasing turned, a slow smile lighting up his face as he took in Rupert's appearance.

"Well then, Ripper," he purred. "Fancy meeting you here."

His gaze shifted to Buffy's mother, standing beside his old friend, her arm linked possessively through the Watcher's and he frowned briefly before turning his eyes back on the muscular man in the torn tee shirt.

"I was hoping we might have some time to…talk," Ethan said slowly. "Before the candy wears off and you go back to being all tweedy and…" his gaze went back to Joyce…"what have you."

Giles looked back at the familiar face and licked his lips lightly. "You have been very bad, Ethan. Someone is going to have to punish you for this."

Ethan gave an exaggerated sigh and murmured, "Alas, I suppose that's true. I presume it will be the Slayer?"

Giles prowled toward him, his eyes flickering up and down Ethan's body. "No, I don't think so. Buffy? Why don't you see Joyce safely home? I believe I can handle this by myself."

He ignored the protests from the blond woman at his side, prying off her arm and giving her a less-than-gentle nudge toward her daughter as he moved even closer to his former friend and lover.

"I'm afraid this might take awhile," he explained, never taking his eyes off the slender man in front of him.

"I am absolutely counting on it," was the delighted reply as the Watcher's strong hand closed around Ethan's upper arm.

**The End**

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(**For Braat 44 who wanted to see a Season II attraction between Spike and Buffy**)

**Do WE Really need weapons for this?**

"Do we really need weapons for this?" Buffy dropped her axe and waited to see what the vampire would do. When he dropped his own weapon and drawled, "But they make me feel so manly," she knew she'd found his weakness. He couldn't resist a challenge.

Then he ran his hands down his chest, past his flat abdomen and her gaze was drawn to the bulge in his jeans framed by his large hands. She blushed, trying to tear her eyes away as he prowled towards her.

_Bad Buffy. Do not look at the sexy - do not look at the evil, EVIL! vampire's crotch. Watch his eyes – no not the eyes. Eyes pretty, and sexy and…watch his hands and feet!_

Spike looked back at the blushing picture of teenage pulchritude facing him and licked his lips.

_She's just a slayer. Just like any other one. Little prettier than most, maybe. Little smarter. But just another slayer. Don't let her distract you with those big eyes, that lower lip, those long, tanned legs…_

"You don't look like the begging kind…"

_I'll bet I could make you beg. Make you moan. Make you scream…Can smell how much you want me, little Slayer._

_Why is he looking at me like that? Like I'm a piece of candy and he's about to lick me…no – no licking! Licking leads to biting and other bad…things._

"Oh no, Spike. It's going to hurt …a lot."

_Bloody hell, Didn't think I could get any harder, but that did it. Oh yeah, baby. You can hurt me anytime. Lay it on, Slayer. Give it to me good._

"Are we going to do this, or what?"

_Okay, Buffy. Not the smartest thing you've ever said. Why is he grinning like that? You'd think he could tell that he's turning me on. That I'd rather be kissing him than hitting him…gah!"_

Vampire and Slayer came together and there were no sounds except the sound of fists on flesh, bodies impacting walls and floors, grunts of pain or effort and the occasional muttered expletive as they tested each other and realized they'd each found a match.

**The End**

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(**The request was for Giles and Jenny)**

**What might have been**

"Have you always been this easily shocked?" Jenny asked with amusement as the librarian coughed and reddened. "All I did was suggest we do something tonight that did not involve the children."

"Yes, Quite. I didn't mean to imply…" He took his glasses off and began to polish them vigorously. "That is, I mean, not that I was thinking…but we could…"

"I could come to your house for dinner?" she suggested gently. "And you could play your guitar for me and sing love songs?"

"Well, yes, that is actually…that would be lovely. Really. Would you?"

"Well, since it was my idea, it would be very rude of me to say 'no' now, wouldn't it?" She smiled at him, a teasing glint in her eyes that made him suddenly feel much younger than he did when around the children.

"Right then, I'll expect you at, say 6:00? It will still be daylight then and quite safe to—"

"Rupert, I'm a big girl. I go out at night all the time. I know how to take care of myself."

"I'm sure you do, Miss Calen- Jenny. But this is Sunnydale. Even big girls sometimes get—"

"If I think it's too dangerous to go home alone, then I guess we'll have to think of some other… alternative. Won't we?"

She looked at him with completely insincere innocence, laughing at his hopeful, but embarrassed face as she kissed his cheek and said cheerfully, "You are adorable when you're flustered."

"I do NOT get 'flustered'," he protested indignantly. "I am a grown man and perfectly capable of handling myself in a potentially romantic situation."

Jenny's expression softened and she leaned into him, whispering, "I'll just bet you are…Ripper."

Her laughter tinkled back to him as she walked into her classroom, her swaying hips promising more than he'd hoped for.

**The End**

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(**The request was Spike/Joyce friendship/family so, of course, I couldn't resist).**

**Thank You, Mum**

Joyce looked up as she heard noises on her back porch and stepped to the door quickly. Opening the door, she was surprised to find Dawn just taking her book bag from Spike and starting up the steps.

"Hi, Mom," the teenager greeted her casually, as though she came home from school escorted by a vampire every night.

"Dawn. Spike."

Joyce looked back and forth between her youngest daughter and the vampire her older daughter had banned from the house. Spike ducked his head and studied his feet with embarrassment. He hadn't seen Buffy's mother since his aborted attempt to convince the Slayer he loved her, and he wasn't sure how much she'd been told about that night.

"You're late," she said to Dawn. "You know your sister doesn't want you out alone after dark."

"I wasn't alone," Dawn pointed out. "I was with Spike."

" 'M sorry, Joyce," he mumbled. "I thought it would be better for her to be with the Big Bad than to be walking home by herself. I'll just be going now—"

He turned away, shoulders slumping and before she could stop herself, Joyce said, "Wait. Spike…I…I…Thank you. Thank you for seeing Dawn safely home."

The smile he gave her as he mumbled his "You're welcome" told her that she'd done the right thing, and she smiled back, genuinely glad to see him again.

"I, um, I can't invite you in, Spike, because Buffy…" She paused uncomfortably, startled by the pain that flashed across his expressive face before he closed it down.

With his cocky mask back in place, he shrugged and said softly, "That's alright, Joyce. Know I'm not welcome here anymore. Jus' didn't want the Niblet out by herself is all."

"I can't invite you in, but I can make hot chocolate and drink it out here on the porch with you," Joyce offered, noting the way his face lit up. It occurred to her that Spike was probably very lonely; no demon friends because he helped the Slayer, and now no longer welcome among her friends.

_If he ever was welcome,_ she thought, remembering the way Xander spoke about and to the harmless vampire. With renewed certainty that she was doing the right thing, she pointed to the steps and ordered him to "Have a cigarette and I'll be right out."

She gestured for Dawn to precede her in the door telling her to help herself to the dinner awaiting warm-up in the microwave before tackling her homework. With a wave at Spike, Dawn disappeared into the house ahead of her mother. Joyce turned to look at Spike, still standing self-consciously at the foot of the steps and repeated, "Have a seat, Spike. I'll be right back out."

With a nod, he lowered himself to the top step and took out his cigarettes and lighter. Satisfied that he would do as she asked, she followed Dawn into the kitchen and quickly began to make hot chocolate. While it warmed, she dug into the cupboard for the few remaining marshmallows that she'd always kept around for him.

Carrying two mugs of the warm drink out and handing one to Spike, Joyce joined him on the top step of the porch, sitting down carefully and looking into her cup. Spike immediately put out the cigarette he'd been smoking, crushing the butt and putting it in his pocket before raising the mug to his lips and inhaling the rich scent of chocolate and sugar.

He raised his head and smiled shyly. "Thank you, Joyce. You even put my marshmallows in it, I see."

"I had a few left," she said with a shrug. "I knew you'd want them if I had any."

They drank in companionably silence for a few minutes until Joyce asked casually, "Are you really in love with Buffy?"

" 'Fraid so," he answered just as casually; his stiffened posture belied his tone.

"You know she doesn't…I don't think she would…" Joyce shook her head. "I don't think you chose the best approach to break the news to her."

"Yeah. Now that I think on it, prob'ly wasn't one of my better ideas. Jus' seemed like the thing to do at the time, you know?"

He gave her a small, sad smile as he drained his mug and placed it beside her on the step.

"Thank you, Joyce," he said with quiet sincerity. " 'S nice to know not everyone here hates me."

"She doesn't hate you, Spike. She just doesn't love you. I think you frightened her."

He snorted. "The day the Slayer's afraid of me…"

"Not afraid physically, Spike. And not of you, specifically. Just... afraid. The last vampire who said he loved her caused her – caused all of us – a lot of pain. I'm afraid it's not something she's interested in experiencing again."

"I'm not him!" The outburst startled them both, and he stood up, mumbling an apology.

"I know that, William. And Dawn knows it. But I'm afraid Buffy and her friends…well, they're all very wary of vampires in love. And with good reason, I might add."

Spike nodded, not bothering to voice his agreement. He knew that his grandsire had filled the Slayer with pseudo-facts and half-truths about vampires and souls – information which had been proven out when Angel lost his own soul. Buffy had no reason to trust an unsouled vampire's word, or to feel that she could safely acknowledge any feelings she might have. Angelus had done too good a job on her youthful heart.

With a sigh, he thanked Joyce again and turned to go, pausing when she called his name softly.

"You know you are always welcome here, Spike," she said, gesturing at the back porch. "I would never deceive Buffy by inviting you into the house without her permission, but I would like it very much if you stopped by occasionally to visit with Dawn and me in the evenings."

His gratitude plainly visible on his face, Spike found himself unable to speak. He just nodded, smiling happily and walking off into the darkness with a wave of his hand.

**The End**

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(**Just post-The Gift. Giles and Spike learn to deal with loss..**.)

**We Carry On**

Giles stood in the doorway, staring at the broken vampire on the bed. Seeing Spike in Buffy's bedroom made the watcher in him want to kill something, but the man who was grieving the same loss couldn't bring himself to say anything. He knew Spike's heightened sense of smell must make him feel like he was surrounded by Buffy. He shook his head. Surely that had to be worse than getting used to her absence somewhere that didn't contain constant reminders. But then, Giles admitted, he wasn't an old vampire, only a middle-aged man trying to deal with the inevitable conclusion of his relationship with his slayer. He had no idea how, or even if, vampires grieved.

Downstairs, Willow and Xander were tentatively planning to go out on patrol. He'd discouraged them for the moment, but he knew they couldn't ignore the situation forever. With Glory and her minions gone, the local demons and vampires were bound to start drifting back to the Hellmouth, if not immediately, certainly within a month or so.

Dawn stayed locked in her room, coming out only to pick at meals. He'd told her she had to go back to school tomorrow. If they wanted to keep the local demon population in line, they couldn't afford to let it be known that the Slayer was dead. She nodded silently when he told her, not arguing, but accepting it. He knew she felt responsible for Buffy's death, but he had yet to summon the courage to lie to her and tell her it wasn't her fault. Not while he still felt that way himself...

Willow's idea of repairing the Buffybot was disturbing, but he thought it could work. Temporarily, at least. And working on the bot would keep her from venturing out to see what she was capable of doing magically. He sagged against the wall for a second as the enormity of trying to keep Sunnydale safe without Buffy overwhelmed him. He ran a hand over his face, wondering how a middle-aged bachelor had ended up responsible for a teenager and the only slightly older friends of her sister. And, with a heartbroken, crippled vampire who didn't seem to plan to leave Buffy's bed until they brushed his dust off it.

Squaring his shoulders, he went into the room and set down his burdens. Without speaking, he walked to the bed and ran his hands down the leg that was bent at an unnatural angle.

"Not now, luv. I've got a headache." Spike's voice was hoarse and weak, but the sarcasm gave Giles a bit of hope.

"You wish," he muttered, putting one hand on Spike's knee and the other on his ankle. "You may want to put that pillow over your mouth," he said, pulling his hands apart. Spike's muffled scream lasted until Giles had wrestled the ends of the broken bones more or less into position. He held them together with one hand while he reached behind him for the ace bandages he'd brought in. When he had wrapped the now straight leg as tightly as he could, he stepped back, ignoring the lethal glare Spike was giving him.

He went back to the bag he'd brought in, pulling out several bags of human blood and setting them on the bed. He reached in again and pulled out an unopened bottle of Glenfiddich. With a sigh, he walked back to the bed and set the bottle on the nightstand.

"Drink the blood," he ordered. "When you've started to heal, I'll give you one good drunk." He stared wistfully at the bottle and then turned to leave.

"Only one drunk? This from the man who reaches for the Scotch when he gets a hangnail?" Without raising his head, Spike peered at the bottle and back at Giles. "And then what am I supposed to do?"

"Then you can get on your bloody feet and start helping me take care of these brave and foolish children."

**The End**

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**(For Always_jbj who challenged my absent muse to write a drabble about a Season VI conversation between Spike and Angel)**

**Nothing to See Here**

"Peaches." Spike's voice was flat, with no trace of surprise or fear.

"Spike." The other vampire's voice dripped venom and disdain.

"Well, we've established who we are – I'm the devilishly handsome, charming vampire – you're the soulful, brooding one. Now what?"

"I heard a rumor."

"Nasty thing, gossip." Spike turned away with a shrug, grateful that he had no heartbeat to accelerate and alert his grandsire to the sudden fear that clutched at his stomach. Fear, not for himself, but for the woman he loved who would be devastated if Angel were to discover their secret.

"So it's not true?"

Spike could hear, hidden beneath the threatening snarl, just the barest trace of hope. Of a desperate desire not to have his vision of everything good and pure sullied by the knowledge that Buffy, in her despair over being alive again, had turned to his unsouled grandchilde for what he could not give her.

"Wot's not true? Gotta be a bit more specific, Angelus. 'S not like us Sunnydale vamps are up on all the latest LA stories, is it?"

ANgel pushed Spike against the wall and stared into the steady return gaze. Hard brown eyes bored into impassive blue; blue that flashed with amber as Spike's demon fought against the submissive posture.

"This isn't an LA story," Angel growled finally, releasing his hold, but not stepping away.

"Still don't know what you're on about," Spike countered firmly.

"You don't have any idea?" Angel continued to study Spike's face for any sign of duplicity, confident that there was no way the younger vamp would be able to hide something so important from the head of his family.

"Not the foggiest, Gramps," he replied evenly. "Think maybe you've been given some bad information."

"Yeah, you're probably right. It's not like she would ever…not with you." He was turning away and missed the pain that flashed across Spike's face.

"Course I'm right."

"Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking. "

"Me neither, an' I don't think I want to. Don't let the door hit you in the arse."

**The End**

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(**Someone requested fluffy spara – there's nothing scarily explicit or non-Spuffy about it, just a hint of what might have been.)**

**Maybe, Baby**

"Come on, Glinda, you know you want to play." Spike's wicked grin made Tara blush even as she shook her head vigorously.

"No, no, I don't. Really, Spike. Think of something else to do."

"But I want to play strip poker." The vampire pouted and tried to look hurt. "Come on, luv. You're a bloody witch. It's not like you're going to lose, you know. If you don't like your cards, you can just wave a hand and change 'em."

"But that would be cheating!" Tara's eyes were wide with dismay at the thought.

"Well, yeah, pet," he explained patiently. "What's the fun of playing poker if you aren't going to cheat? You can be sure I'll be cheating to try to get a look at what's under those baggy clothes you insist on wearing."

He waggled his eyebrows at her and managed to leer and look adorable at the same time.

"You don't want to see what's under my clothes, Spike," she blushed and ducked her head. "You should try to get Buffy or Willow to play with you. Not me."

He slid closer to her and cocked his head. "And why wouldn't I want to see you naked, pet?" he asked with perfect seriousness. "I know you must be hiding some serious curves under there. All soft and womanly…just what a man wants on a cold night…"

His eyes had glazed over as he talked and he came to himself with a little shake, saying quickly, "Not that I go around picturing you naked, you understand. Wouldn't do that. Not to Red's bird. Might wake up and find myself all slimy and toad-like the next morning, yeah?"

Tara's face, which had been bright red, but happy looking nevertheless, fell.

"Oh," she said quietly. "Well, I knew you wouldn't – didn't. I mean, Men don't look at me that way…"

Spike took her chin in his hand and turned her head until she was looking right into his piercing blue eyes.

"Yes, they do, luv. Oh yes, they do."

He held her chin until he could read the understanding in her own soft expression, then released her and sat back, picking up the cards again. "So, what's it to be, pet? Five card stud or dealer's choice?"

**The End**

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(**Written for 12 months of BtVS – this is my Anya fic. Takes place during Season Six – Entropy. Anya's thoughts that night.)**

**Solace for a Demon**

I don't understand how he could do that to me. He says he loves me. He tells me his insides hurt. Hah! Not enough they don't! They need to be hanging out of his body – bloody and torn… painfully…. Oh, never mind. I don't think I really want him to die. But some pain would be good…it would make me feel bet-

What's -? The bell. Good, a customer. Some money would help me feel better. Less…useless. Unwanted…I can help the customer and –Oh. It's just Spike. What does HE want? Hey, he doesn't like Xander. Maybe he'll do a curse for me. Let's see what do I want? Evisceration? Broken bones? Maybe another round of syphilis? That's it – I'll ask Spike to curse Xander's penis.

Spike doesn't look very good. Even for a dead man. He looks like he hasn't eaten in a while and…has he been crying? Nah. Vampires don't cry. Ex-demons cry. Especially when they've been left standing around in a wedding gown that they aren't going to need. Apparently they….Oh, he's upset about some girl. Interesting. Wonder if it's that skanky Goth he brought to my wedding. My wedding that didn't happen because Xander "wasn't ready". Like that matters when you have 120 people and demons all waiting to watch you get married!

Boy, Spike is really not in good shape. Funny. I thought he had this thing for Buffy, but ... Somebody has really broken his heart. I guess he didn't want us to meet her for some reason. Maybe she's a demon and he thought we'd all be rude to her. That we'd make fun of her because she didn't know how to behave like a human. Because that's what the Scoobies do. Make fun of demons or ex-demons who are doing their best to belong…I wouldn't have done that. I would have been nice.

No. She's apparently human. It must be that girl he brought to the wedding. MY wedding. That I didn't get. Because Xander doesn't want to marry me. Because he doesn't love me. I thought he loved me, but he obviously doesn't or he wouldn't have left me at the altar like that.

It must be me. Maybe it was all the demons at the wedding? He hates being reminded that I used to be a demon. That's probably it. He's ashamed that I was a demon…What? Oh Spike wants something to kill his pain. I don't know how to kill pain. If I did, doesn't he think I would have done something about mine?

There. Brought out Giles' good scotch. Maybe we can numb the pain for a while. Even if we can't make it go away… Two demons drowning their sorrows because of what a couple of humans did to them. What is wrong with this picture? We should be making THEM cry. Torturing and killing. Not sitting here getting stinky drunk and…and…when did he move so close to me?

I never knew Spike could be so…sweet. And understanding. He knows how I feel. How it feels to be dumped because you're a demon. Like we could help that! He's so sympathetic. So nice to me. Telling me I'm pretty and Xander is a wanker. Whatever a wanker is.

Poor Spike. He's so sad. It almost makes me feel sorry for him. That somebody hurt him too. If I had a way, I'd make it stop hurting for him. I would. I'd work a vengeance on her if he asked for it.

What is he doing? What am I doing? If our mouths get any closer we'll be… "Moving on" he says. Is that what we're doing? Are we moving on? To each other? No. Demon comfort. He's offering demon comfort; or asking for it. I'm not sure which of us needs it the most. Probably me. I mean it's not like his human left him at the altar…I'm definitely the more injured party here. He's going to make us both forget for a few minutes. Humans wouldn't understand, but I do. We give each other what we can and take solace from it.

Why shouldn't I? Spike likes me. He thinks I'm pretty. He thinks that I'm worth having. And he doesn't care that I was a demon. He's a demon too, although, a very nice one. With very soft lips. And a very nice body. Not soft and squishy like Xander's. And, what appears to be a very large penis…

What an excellent kisser. He could give Xander lessons. Not that Xander needs lessons…or that he's ever going to touch these lips again…but if he did, he could learn from this vampire. Wow!

I thought I wanted only Xander to give me orgasms. But he doesn't want to anymore. I think I wouldn't mind an orgasm from Spike. He seems to be very skilled at this. Here I am, on my back, on the table and half way to happy land already. Whoever the girl is, she is very foolish to let this vampire get away. He really knows how to – oh, oh, oh, OH!

That was a wonderful orgasm. And yet, oddly enough, I don't know if I feel any better. I should. An attractive man has just given me an orgasm and told me how wonderful I am. And I am. Wonderful. I'm pretty and sexy and a good businesswoman, and…

And I still got left at the altar by the man who said he loved me. I still have to send back all the wedding presents. I still have to face all those people who saw me get stood up at my own wedding.

Thank you, Spike. You made me feel special for a few minutes. For just a little while you made me forget that Xander doesn't love me enough to marry me. It was a nice break from feeling sorry for myself. Orgasms always make me feel good, even if they don't last very long.

I hope it made him feel better. He doesn't look any happier than he did when he came in. Maybe I'll let him walk me home and see if he wants to make me feel better again. Whoever that stupid girl is, she needs her head examined for breaking up with him.

What the-? Xander? What is he doing here? And why does he—oh no, don't hit Spike with the axe! He knows. Oh my god, he knows. How can he know already? Oh, I can't believe this! He's yelling at me? Like I did something wrong?

Buffy's here. Why is Buffy here? And how did she know Xander was going to try to kill Spi-Oh my god. Buffy. It was Buffy. The girl Spike was crying about…the one who broke his heart. It was Buffy. The Slayer. Who doesn't look very happy about what we did. I don't know how – but she and Xander both know what we just did. Now Xander has stopped yelling at me so he can yell at her. Spike probably shouldn't have said that – that he was good enough for Buffy. Now Xander REALLY wants to kill him. For touching his precious Buffy. That probably makes him madder than the orgasm Spike gave me.

He's so mad she won't let him kill Spike. Say's he's disgusted with both of us. He's leaving. He didn't even look at me after he finished yelling at Buffy. I guess it's not too hard to see which of us he was most upset about Spike giving orgasms to.

Now it's just us. Spike's still sitting on the ground where Xander left him. He looks like he wishes Buffy hadn't stopped Xander from dusting him. She's just staring at him. She looks like she wants to cry…except she isn't. Crying, I mean. She's getting that "Slayer" look. The one that means she wants to kill something. I wonder if I can sneak away before she…too late. She's looking at me now.

I should say something. Tell her I didn't know it was her Spike was talking about. I never would have had sex with him if I'd known he was hers. Not even we're-both-miserable-because-our-humans-don't-want -us solace sex.

I hope she doesn't know I'm a demon again. I should try to look very human. Just like her. She doesn't kill humans. Does she?

**The End**

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(**Written for a Christmas prezzie for Selene in December 05. He's good Xander in this one.)**

**Lessons From a Demon**

She dropped down beside him, letting out a heavy sigh, and leaning back against the wall. He gave her a sideways glance, but just nodded to acknowledge her arrival. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes until she finally rolled her head towards him and said quietly, "I'm sorry about your girl. I didn't really have much time to get to know her, but she seemed like fun."

He gave a start of surprise, then nodded his appreciation. "Yes, she was fun. And she loved me."

"Anyone could see that," she answered. "And you loved her." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I did. I didn't do right by her, but I did love her. I hope she knew that."

"I'm sure she did, Xan." Faith stood up, brushing her hand lightly over his head. "Got to go check on Robin. I just wanted to tell you… you know… trying to act like a real person."

He finally looked up at her with his one functional, if red and bruised-looking eye. "You are as real as they come, Faith. Don't let anyone tell you different."

With a final half-smile, she turned and wandered toward the bus, which the hospital had graciously allowed them to leave in the parking lot until all their injured had been cared for. If the hospital personnel wondered how the collapse of a giant sinkhole had caused wounds like those from bladed weapons and/or teeth and claws, no one said anything. They just put their emergency room on full alert and began an immediate triage.

Robin, of course, being one of the most gravely wounded, had been hustled off to surgery and no one had been able to talk to him since he'd been rolled off down the hallway, leaving Faith with a weak wink and a thumbs up. He'd seemed so confident that she hadn't really bothered to worry about him, just fidgeted impatiently as she waited for him to come out of the anesthesia.

As the day wore on and the girls were released if they didn't require hospitalization, she became more and more impatient, prowling around the waiting room and glaring at the nurses as though it was their fault he wasn't out yet. Nothing had prepared her for the grim-looking doctor who emerged from the recovery area and asked quietly, "Are you Faith?"

She nodded quickly, already moving towards the doors, sure that he had come to tell her Robin was awake and asking for her. The man's hand on her arm stopped her forward progress and she paused to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What's up, Doc?" She grinned at her own witticism, feeling her smile fade as the doctor didn't laugh with her but instead, gestured for her to sit down.

Shaking her head vigorously, she stared at him, refusing to admit that he was going to say anything she didn't want to hear.

"Mr. Wood listed you as his next-of-kin. Is that correct?"

"I guess I'm as close to it as he's got," she answered, her voice faltering in spite of herself.

"I'm sorry," the man said quietly.

"About what?" She was genuinely puzzled for the second or two that it took for his words to truly sink in, then realization hit and she sank into the chair she'd refused such a short time ago.

"No," she insisted. "No. I thought he was dead; but then he wasn't, and now he's here. In a hospital. So he's going to be fine. I mean, no slayer healing, so, yeah, it'll take a while, but—"

"I'm sorry," the doctor repeated again. "If you will tell us what kind of arrangements you need to make—"

She leapt to her feet and ran from the room, sure that if she ran far enough and fast enough, the tears she could feel prickling her eyes would be left behind. She ran until she was out of breath, then stopped and looked around. She found herself out in the desert, miles from the town and hospital and the dead body of the first and only man to treat her like she was something special.

Clenching her hands into fists at her sides, and squeezing her eyes shut even more tightly, she took deep, cleansing breaths until the uncharacteristic urge to cry was once more under control.

_It's okay. He was just another guy. I've had plenty of them. This one seemed a little more… interested, maybe. Maybe a little nicer, but still, just a guy. Only known him a few weeks. Its' not like I've lost the love of my life_ _here._

Satisfied that she'd put Robin's death in perspective, she began the long trudge back to town, not arriving until darkness had fallen and everyone had wandered off to find shelter for the night. She stared at the lights of the motel across the street from the hospital, knowing that somewhere over there was a bed meant for her use. Somehow, the idea of spending the night sharing the room with a girl who was, most likely, almost a complete stranger was very unappealing and she turned away, walking towards the darkened bus.

She wasn't even surprised to find Xander sitting in the doorway, staring at a crumpled Twinky wrapper on the ground as though by looking at it hard enough, he could force it to plump back out with sugary goodness. When Faith's foot pressed it into the pavement, he gave up with a sigh and raised his head.

"I heard about the principal," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I guess we both lost someone today."

"Not the same," she said, as much to convince herself as him. "You and your girl were together for years. I just met him."

"It's not how long you've know them, it's how much you loved them that counts," he answered with a wisdom that shocked and surprised her into silence.

He moved his feet over and she joined him on the steps, sitting just below him and leaning back against the next step. Her head was level with his knees and she found herself fighting the urge to rest it against his strong leg. When the silence began to become uncomfortable, she asked cautiously, "How's B doing? I haven't seen her all day."

He shrugged before responding quietly, "She spent the whole day insisting she was fine; that she was so proud of Spike she could dance a jig."

Faith nodded. "So, is she still jigging?"

He shook his head. "She disappeared into their room a couple of hours ago and when Dawn came out for dinner she said Buffy wouldn't be joining us for the victory meal. Dawn only made it though the salad before she said she had to go and she ran back to their room. They haven't come out since then and nobody has wanted to knock on the door."

"I expect Blondie's spontaneous combustion left a pretty big hole in the Summers family," Faith said softly.

Xander jerked involuntarily before asking, "How is it that you could be here for only a few weeks and see that? I've know them for years and never realized… never admitted to myself how much he was a part of their lives. Especially Dawnie—that whole summer Buffy was gone, the bleached menace was there: getting her off to school, helping with her homework, babysitting when the rest of us didn't want to bother with her. And Buffy… much as I hate to admit it, I know he loved her and she…." He stopped, unwilling to go on.

"She loved him back, Xan," Faith finished for him softly. "Maybe she couldn't show it in front of everybody, but it was there. They had something pretty special. Leave it to B to finally pick the right vamp," she added wryly.

"I am such a jerk," Xander said, dropping his head. "Never gave him a chance, never gave them a chance—wouldn't let her explain… She'll never believe me now if I try to tell her I'm sorry."

Leaning her head against his knee, Faith reached up with one hand and stroked his head. "Everybody's sorry tonight. We're all sorry about something or someone…."

Suddenly the tears she'd conquered earlier were pouring down her cheeks, and he felt her sudden shudder as sobs welled up from a place she hadn't thought she owned. He pulled her body up onto the same step with him, and then into his lap when it became obvious there wasn't room for both of them. As the hard-boiled slayer cried on his shoulder for all the people they'd lost that day, his own eyes, which he'd been sure had no tears left, filled again and he clutched her against his chest sobbing into her dark, fragrant hair.

When Faith's sobs tapered off and she twisted around to fasten her mouth on his desperately, he met it with his own bereft passion, plunging his tongue out to meet hers. Without breaking the kiss, he pulled himself back up into the bus and twisted until they were lying in the aisle still kissing each other frantically. Without thought, hands went to belts and waistbands and pants were unzipped and pushed down legs to allow body parts to meet.

Faith struggled to be in her usual position on top but the large man was able to turn her so that he was looking down into her confused face as he kissed her again.

"Let me do this," he whispered against her mouth. "Let me love you, Faith. Just for tonight."

She nodded silently, opening her thighs and sighing as he pushed slowly into her. For minutes they moved easily together, her arms wrapping around large body and her legs around his moving hips. They continued kissing as though to stop using their mouths might require them to speak about what they were doing. It wasn't long before the man's movements became harder and faster and she allowed herself to get lost in the feelings his body was creating.

When she arched up into him with a soft cry, he gave a soft grunt and allowed his own release to spurt into her, continuing small movements of his hips until he felt her collapse under him. They lay together quietly for several minutes before he rolled off, asking in a whisper if the floor had hurt her back.

She shook her head and reached for her clothes, pulling them back on without looking at him. Xander grabbed his own pants and pulled them up, buckling his belt loosely and sitting up slowly. Faith looked back at him in the dim light reflecting off the parking lot lights and said without inflection, "You know this isn't… it doesn't… it's not like we're…."

He touched her hair and said softly, "Sometimes it isn't about sex, it's about solace."

She nodded, not trying to hide her surprise. "I guess that's what I was trying to say. How did you get so smart?"

"Anya taught me," he whispered, his head dropping back against the seat behind him.

With a quiet nod, the second oldest slayer in the world stepped down onto the pavement and began walking towards the motel and the rest of her life.

**The end.**

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**(Odds and ends of Spike and Illyria ficlets.)**

**Roomies**

"I do not understand why Wesley agreed to that mission. It was foolish of him to go in there without me."

Spike nodded absently, clicking through the channels on the small TV sitting across the dingy hotel room.

"Miss him, then, do you, Blue?"

"I do not understand this 'miss'. Is this a human emotion?"

"That it is, pet," he said quietly. "'nother one of those pesky human emotions you seem to have inherited from Fred. "

"I don't like it."

"Nobody likes it, pet. It's jus' a part of losing people you care about. You miss 'em."

"You miss the other half-breed," she said, daring him to deny it.

"I do. Miss him, miss Charlie, miss Oxford – prob'ly not as much as you do. I miss a lot of people. Comes of livin' a long time and gettin' to know…"

"Who is this 'Buffy' that you speak of when you sleep? Do you miss that human because he is gone from this world?"

Ilyria's abrupt question interrupted Spike's attempt at explaining how often someone who had lived a long time could lose someone important to him.

"What do you know about Buffy? She's none of your business, your godship. And, no, she's not dead."

"Then why do you cry for her in your sleep?"

"I don't cry in my sleep."

She raised an elegant eyebrow in clear imitation of his own patented skeptical look. Then she shrugged.

"You are sleeping – I am awake. I think I know this better than you do."

"That's it, then. We're getting' separate rooms."

**The End**

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(**Sometimes antiques just aren't the way to go - written for a Taming the Muse prompt)**

**Monster Go Boom**

Spike walked into Illyria's room and came face to face with what looked like a large, tooth-filled, blue mouth encircled with waving tentacles dotted with vicious looking hooks. "Whoa! Blue? Where are you? What have you done with her, you ugly—"

Illyria's voice rasped out of the gaping mouth.

"This is me, half-breed. One of my many forms."

"Can I just go on record as saying I much prefer the sexy blue girl-shaped form? Feel free to go back to that any second now." He edged his way past the dangerous-looking tentacles and sat on the couch, trying his best to appear undisturbed by the beast filling up the rest of the room.

"You fear me in this body," she said, rolling one large eye at him.

"I'm not sure I'd call it 'fear' exactly... Bloody hell!" he exploded when he was suddenly snatched up and bashed into the ceiling. "Fine, your ugliness, I fear you. Can I get down now?"

She unceremoniously let go, allowing him to fall to the floor and crawl back to the couch.

"I have received word that an old enemy is trying to surface. It is necessary that I be in a form that can deal with this intrusion."

"You have enemies? I'm shocked."

"You make a joke. I do not find it amusing."

"Big surprise there," he grumbled, avoided the tentacle she'd waved in his direction. "So, where do we find this old enemy that requires you to look like a bloated octopus ... with teeth?"

"We?" Her voice dripped contempt. "This is far beyond your meager capabilities. I will be dealing with my old enemy myself. It is time to show him that hatred is by far the longer pleasure. When I have made it clear that I have not forgotten his transgressions, and have reduced him to a mewling pile of flesh, it is possible that I will permit you to practice your feeble skills."

"Fine, your royal blueness. Do I get to watch, then?"

"You may watch. From a distance."

Several hours later, when Illyria was still being tossed around by an even uglier and larger bright orange creature having more tentacles and an open, tooth-filled maw from which came fetid breath, Spike shook his head and jumped in the Viper to drive back to Wolfram and Hart. He ignored the sputtering threats to eviscerate him coming from the bloodied blue monster fighting for her life, racing to the Wolfram and Hart armory and emerging with what he'd been seeking.

He returned to find Illyria crouched behind a rock, mourning the loss of one of her tentacles. When she saw Spike, she straightened up and pretended to be plotting her strategy.

"How's it goin', Blue?" Spike asked innocently, as he opened the trunk of the car.

"You would not understand," she sniffed, moving back to where the other demi-god was jumping up and down as it waited for her to resume the battle. "This is a dispute between gods; it has been going on longer than your puny species can imagine. This time, I will destroy my enemy for all time."

"Uh huh," he agreed, narrowing his eyes as she walked out only to be grabbed and dragged toward the gaping mouth of her opponent. "You sure you don't want any help?"

"I've told you," she gasped, struggling to remain out of the creature's mouth, "this is beyond your feeble skills. You will only be seriously damaged should you try to fight the O'gracken. It is an ancient evil, much older humans or the half-breeds that prey upon them. It requires something equally—" She paused to bite off one of her opponent's tentacles, gaining a few precious seconds of freedom. During which Spike raised his new acquisition to his shoulder and fired it, blowing the other monster into small orange pieces of flesh that began to dissolve one at a time.

There was an ominous silence after the loud explosion. Spike did not look at Illyria as he put the giant gun back in the trunk of the viper; he just shrugged.

"Guess you didn't have rocket launchers back in the day," he said, closing the trunk and leaning against the door. "Now, are you going to change into something that will fit into the front seat, or are you going to slither home on your own?"

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she pulsed from blue to purple to deep red and back to blue again. He let out a sigh of relief when she stopped pulsing and shimmied back into her human "shell". She limped to the car and got in, still not speaking to Spike as he drove them back to the Wolfram and Hart office building.

When she allowed herself to accept his offer of an arm to lean on while she made her way back to her room, he got his first sense of how seriously injured she was and how close she might have come to losing the battle. They paused at the entrance to her room and she took a deep breath. "You did well," she said grudgingly. "You were useful today." Before he could compose his sarcastic reply, she faded into Fred's sweet face and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Spike."

**The End**


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